Hawke Lost in the Fade
by tyrannsauroswrex
Summary: The Inquisitor decided to leave Hawke in the Fade to save Alistair and her friends are forced to live without her.
1. Chapter 1

Varric sat with his head down, hands dangling between his knees. _Shit, shit, shit, Hawke. Why did you always have to be the hero?_ He closed his eyes and they were there, running again, and taking directions from a spirit, or a demon, or whatever. Hawke had been laughing the whole time, tears streaming down her face talking about how Fenris would never approve of this and how she was glad he'd stayed home. It'd been nice to be with her again, fight along side her again. Her hair was longer since the last time he'd seen her, but she looked good, looked happy. He sighed and straightened his back against the chair. He needed a drink.

He shuffled down to the lower courtyard and opened the door to the tavern. Bull and Sera were in the corner, talking over some drinks. They called for him to join, but he waved them off. He'd see them eventually, but right now he needed to be alone. He sat at the bar with his head in his hands and stared blankly at his drink. He kept flashing back to their last moments in the fade together. Of her volunteering to stay so they could leave. Alistair saying he'd take her place and the Inquisitor choosing to leave Hawke anyway, something about Alistair's connections with the wardens. But all Varric could think while the Inquisitor justified her choice and Hawke unsheathed her sword was the time they had played Wicked Grace at Hawke's Estate. They'd all been there, even Anders, though he had been scribbling away madly at his Manifesto the entire time. It had been cold outside that night but the fire and Hawke's damned mabari kept Varric plenty warm. Wine was drunk and the night had been filled with their laughter. He could see Merrill giggling at the cards with Aveline and Isabela stealing sips from everyone else's wine cups after she'd finished hers. Could see Fenris' pathetic puppy eyed looks he snuck of Hawke every so often. He could feel the couch beneath him, feel the fire warming his cheeks, hear the crackle of the logs - and suddenly, he was running again, footfalls echoing in the fade around them. The Inquisitor, Alistair, and Bull were ahead of him while his friend stayed behind to clear a path. She looked so small compared to that fucking thing. He turned before they reached the rift and saw Hawke flash him a smile and shout something at him. She laughed and looked to be having the time of her life, which she probably was. He saw the spider rear up and he tried to call out a warning to her as Bull pushed him through. He whirled around after landing on his knees in the real world, pleading to go back, begging the Inquisitor to keep the rift open just for a second. He remembered the Inquisitor's proud face when she sealed it, and left Hawke to die. He heard the cheers afterwards, felt the crowd threaten to swallow him whole as they surged around the her.

He took a swig of his drink and wiped his eyes absently. He knew he'd have to tell Fenris and was dreading it. He would not take it well, hell, he had probably spent days trying to dissuade her from coming in the first place. _Shit Hawke._ Varric got out a slip of paper and smoothed it out against the bar. He penned one word, _Fenris_.


	2. Chapter 2

Fenris leaned back in his chair and stretched in the morning light that filtered through the open window. He was still groggy from his restless nightmare plagued sleep and his back ached from the work yesterday. He and Hawke took to rebuilding Lothering after they fled from Kirkwall, Merrill had spent weeks cleansing the land from the Blight while they built temporary houses. That had been a year ago and Merrill moved on shortly after; though she did keep in contact from time to time by sending cryptic messages about elven lore.

He looked down at the baby sleeping peacefully in the crib next to him. Bianca's cheeks were flushed and rosy and she clutched at the air. He smiled and combed her sandy hair away from her eyes. He got up, wincing as his knees popped, and made his way toward to bedroom to get dressed.

There was a knock at the door as he turned the corner, so soft he almost believed it was his imagination. They knocked again, louder this time, more urgent. He crossed the room and opened the door, a mixture of excitement and dread knotted his stomach. Was it Hawke, back early from whatever it was Varric needed her for? He sighed in relief as he opened the door, he had missed her, the smell of her hair, the sound of her voice when she woke up, it would be good to have her back.

"Merrill?" Her hair was disheveled and her eyes were swollen and red but she offered him a smile in response.

"Fenris, I'm so sorry to barge in like this. Mythal, I'm so sorry for a lot of things and I wish I was visiting for better reasons."

"Merrill, what's going on?" He opened the door wider and motioned her inside. She wiped her feet and looked around the room.

"Thank you, Fenris. That's very sweet of you. I'll only be a second and then we've got to get going," she came inside and peaked in Bianca's crib, cooing. "My, she's gotten quite big since I was last here."

"Merrill, please tell me what's going on. And where are _we_ going?"

"Right, right. Sorry, I'm sorry. Here," she said, thrusting a folded letter into his hand. It was worn from travel and his name was written on the front. Merrill cradled Bianca in her arms and walked about the small cabin, humming softly under her breath.

 _Fenris,_

 _Forgive me because I'm not really sure what to say or how to say it. Hawke came to help the Inquisitor with the Wardens, she thinks they're behind whatever the hell is going on, went on, with the sky. (You must have seen it where you are). They went in the Fade, and I know how much she hated that place. They went in and, she didn't make it. She stayed behind to carve out a path for us. I'm sorry, Broody. I know you guys have the kid now too. I'm sorry._

 _Varric Tethras_

Merrill looked back over her shoulder sheepishly, all the while bouncing Bianca in her arms. Fenris looked confused, he surely must've finished the letter by now. Hawke had taught him to read, or so she thought. Maybe -

"I don't understand," he whispered as he stumbled backwards and fell into the chair. "Varric wrote this? To me? This poor excuse of an explanation? I don't," Fenris' eyes were small, frightened, the same look as he had when Danarius ambushed them in Kirkwall. Except Hawke had been there that time, she had saved him as she had done for all of them. Merrill turned away, unable to watch at his heart broke, and buried her face in Bianca's whispery hair, breathing deeply, steadying herself.

Behind her, Fenris stared down at the floor, holding the letter in his hands. He read and reread the letter, each time lingering over Hawke's name. She couldn't be gone, Varric wouldn't have let her stay behind. How could she have left him, left her daughter? He shut his eyes tight against the harsh morning light and retreated back to their first kiss.

 _He returned to his mansion, and slammed the door behind him, cracking the wall around the frame. 'Hadriana and Danarius will never leave me be. They'll dog me until they take back their precious markings'. He paced around in a haze, lost in his past, the past he tried so desperately to forget. Hadriana and her torment. She would keep him awake for days with her magic, she would purposefully sabotage his work. She delighted in causing him pain and he was powerless to stop her. He shuddered as the air around him stirred up memories of Danarius' breath on his neck, of his cruelty which haunted him even in his dreams. He took a bottle of Danarius' precious pavali from the cellar. It seared his throat but it numbed his thoughts a little._

 _He drank slowly but steadily, wincing each time the wine hit the back of his throat. He didn't like drinking, at least not really and definitely not alone. It tasted awful and the smell reminded him too much of Danarius but it dulled the pain, blurred the memories. He hurled the bottle at the wall, spilling what was left and saturating the house in that foul smell. The house's walls seemed too close, too ready to cave in, and his footsteps echoed too loudly. He had to get out, but go where? He didn't care, somewhere where he wasn't alone, wasn't left with the company of his misery. He pulled on his coat and turned up the collar as he closed the door behind him._

 _Hightown was empty and the air was brisk as he bowed his head and let his feet carry him with no clear destination in mind. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't realize he had stopped, and where, until he heard someone clear their throat behind him. He snapped back to reality, the sounds of the wind blowing through Hightown and someone shuffling their feet greeted him along with a comforting chill in the air. He turned his head slowly and offered Hawke a sheepish smile._

 _"Hawke, I don't know why I'm here, I-"_

 _"Fenris, I was so worried, you just left. Are you okay?" Fenris blinked, hard. She had been worried about him?_

 _"I apologize for leaving, and for how I acted back there. It was inexcusable. Thank you for doing that for me, Hawke," saying her name sent shivers down his spine. Had her eyes always been so blue?_

 _"Oh you know, no harm no foul. I'm just glad you're okay."_

 _"I needed to be alone, though now I can't remember why. When I was still a slave, Hadriana would torment me, she'd deny my meals, hound my sleep, seeing her again, having her in my grasp was too much. I... I wanted to let her live, to give up this hate which is eating away at me, but I couldn't."_

 _"What do you mean?"_

 _"This hate, I thought I'd gotten away from it but it dogs me no matter where I go. To feel it again, to know it was they who planted it in my soul, it was too much to bear," he stood a while, lost in thought, almost losing himself in her eyes. She smelled like honeysuckle. To reach out and touch her cheek. He forced himself to look away from her lips, "I'm sorry, Hawke, this is not your problem. Thank you for your help. I'll leave you now," he turned away, meaning to walk home. Leave her out of his baggage,_

 _Hawke grabbed his arm, gently at first, but more forceful as she turned him around to face her._

 _Fenris' heart leapt into his throat, he was caught off guard. He grabbed her arms and slammed her into the wall. No one would touch him like that, not after Danarius, not again. Flashes of his former life blurred before his eyes, he felt his markings glowing hot, illuminating Hawke's face._

 _Hawke's face._

 _Hawke._

 _He relaxed his grip on her arms, his markings glowing dimmer. She brought him back and he latched on to this memory. She was able to stabilize him when his mind forced him to remember. Fenris studied her face as she leaned up against the wall, chest heaving, eyes burning. Her lips quivered; from fear, from excitement. Her eyes pierced him, ocean blue and just as deep._

 _And suddenly, they were kissing._

 _Had she kissed him, or he her? He couldn't remember, could only focus on her sweet breath in his mouth. Her soft moans only he could hear. He moved his hands through her hair. His head buzzing, filled with the scent honeysuckles and summer breezes. He was drowning in her, losing himself, surrendering himself to her touch._

"Ir abelas, Fenris, truly," Merrill's voice shook as she placed a sleeping Bianca in her crib.

"I'm sorry, I was remembering something," he said, coming back to reality and smirking slightly despite himself. He could still taste Hawke on his lips. He wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand and stood up. "Merrill, thank you for bringing me this, but I think Bianca and I should be alone right now."

"I understand, Fenris, of course. But we do really need to hurry soon."

"Hurry where, Merrill? My wife is dead and there's not even a body to claim. What could I possibly need to do?"

"She's not dead, or at least, probably not dead." Fenris stopped, bent half way down, his hands frozen inches from Bianca.

"She's what?"

"I'll explain later but we really should go now."

"No, Merrill, what did you say?" Fenris stressed each word, his eyes bore into her.

Merrill sighed and met his gaze unabashedly, "Hawke may be alive, trapped in the Fade."

"How? How could you possibly know this?" He pleaded, his eyes swimming with tears threatening to overflow.

"I've seen her, in the Fade. And a great wolf has visited my dreams for many days, begging me to find her. Now, please, Fenris. Pack your bags and we've got to head to Kirkwall."

"Kirkwall?"

"Aveline is taking Bianca until we come back and there's something we need to get from the alienage." Fenris exhaled heavily and began to collect some items for the journey. He carefully tucked the letter in his shirt, poetically right above his heart. He rummaged in their cozy bedroom, lingering over her pillow. He pressed his face to it and shut his eyes for a moment.

10 minutes later, he and Bianca were ready to head out the door and with one last glance around the house they'd built together, Fenris closed the door and followed Merrill. Back to Kirkwall. Back to the beginning.


	3. Chapter 3

Merrill and Fenris stepped off the boat two weeks later on the docks of Kirkwall. The smell of the ocean and fish made Fenris queasy but Merrill seemed completely unaffected by it all. Bianca slept soundly as the three made their way to the Keep and to Guard Captain Aveline. Around them, the city of Kirkwall teemed with life; templars littered the streets, glaring at everyone who walked by and the shop keepers leered at the two elves suspiciously. Kirkwall was on edge.

The Keep still showed scars from the battle and there were soldiers everywhere. They walked up the steps to the Keep and were greeted by Aveline herself. Her hair was longer but tied back, and she looked tired. Hell, she looked exhausted.

"Fenris! It's so good to see you. And you too, Merrill. How was the trip?" Aveline said breathlessly, her face lighting up with her smile. She clasped their hands warmly and ushered them inside.

"Fine, fine, though I do hate boats."

"Oh, I know. My, who is this?" Aveline asked, turning her attention to the sleeping bundle in his arms. "Is this yours?" Fenris nodded. He held Bianca out to Aveline, who took her and raised her above her head. "She's beautiful, Fenris. She's got Hawke's eyes. What is her name?"

"Bianca."

"That's beautiful, Fen. Donnic would love to see her. Merrill, how are you?"

"Very good, thank you Aveline. We can't stay long, we've got to visit the Alienage soon."

"I understand, Merrill. Be careful, I can't protect you from the templars anymore. They have much more aggressive since the explosion at the conclave," Aveline whispered, glancing around anxiously.

"Don't worry about us, Aveline. We'll be in and out and leaving Kirkwall by tonight."

"Where are you two off to?" Aveline narrowed her eyes at Merrill as she handed back Bianca to her father. Merrill smiled serenely back at her but remained silent.

"Alright, fine. But be careful, you two, and come back alive."

Fenris kissed Bianca's sleeping head and thanked Aveline again before following Merrill down the steps toward Lowtown.

It was twilight when they reached the alienage, which was the same as the last time he'd been there; muddy, run down, and overcrowded. Merrill opened the door to her old house and they were swallowed by the darkness.

Merrill lit a candle and began sifting through her old things as Fenris stood by the door, unsure of what to do. She was deathly quiet and focused as she combed through her old books which were scattered on the floor under a fine coating of dust. He wandered the stale halls of her house with his arms crossed, shivering despite the warm summer night. There was a faint glow coming from Merrill's bedroom and with a quick glance over his shoulder, he slipped in. There was a gold framed mirror riddled with cracks leaning against the wall opposite her bed. He inched closer to the mirror and peered in, but there was nothing at all, not even his reflection. Just that pale blue light.

"It's an Eluvian. I fixed it when we still lived here. Well, I tried," Merrill said softly behind him. "The elvhen used them to travel and communicate but I couldn't get

this one to work. Not then."

"What do you mean 'not then'?"

"I studied after we left Kirkwall and I think I figured it out. It should only take a few hours, make yourself at home, or at least as much as you can."

"I think I'll take a walk but I'll be back soon."

"Okay but stay close. This shouldn't take too long."

Fenris left Merrill bent over the mirror and made his way back to Hightown and to his old house. He stood outside with his hands in his pockets staring up at the

flicker of light in the second story window. Seems like someone had moved in after they left. Just as well.

 _Hawke slept soundly next to him with her arm drapped across his chest. Fenris read by moonlight, careful not to make a sound as he turned the pages. It was a book Varric had given him one night as they drank together at the tavern and he was entralled. He still read slowly and sometimes he couldn't figure a word out, at which point he'd swallow his pride and ask for Hawke's help, but he was getting better. He hardly needed her anymore. He swept her hair back from her eyes._

 _The book was a collection of short stories and poetry about love. He had been embarrassed at first, nervous Hawke would catch him reading it and realize the depth of his feelings for her. But she never did, and now, he kind of hoped she would. While reading it, Fenris realized these words couldn't capture his affections quite right. They always felt too flat, too cold, or too short lived. He had spent years watching her grow and succeed from the side lines, he held her the night her mother died, and he fell in love with her inch by inch. To spend his nights with her in her house now was almost too much. He wanted her to know how much he loved her but he had no idea how. He had hoped this book would help but he couldn't read these to her, it wasn't enough._

 _He rolled Hawke over, and covered her up with the blanket, and sat in the library. He combed through the book, picking out his favorite phrases and rewritting them on a fresh piece of paper. He stayed up until the sun peeked through the windows, reading and rereading and adding his own thoughts in the margins._

 _Hawke woke to the smell of honey, the sound of someone rumaging downstairs, and the gentle morning light sifting through the open window. She looked over at the bedside table and smiled sleepily, Fenris had left her a note shakily written saying he was waiting for her in the parlor. She stretched and dressed before smoothing out the sheets, and walked down the stairs, not sure what to expect but excited nonetheless._

 _The estate's parlor was adorned with flowers of every shade and she could smell something sweet baking. Hawke drifted through the parlor, stopping occasionally to smell her own personal garden, and to pick her favorites. Fenris was there floating among the ocean of flowers, smiling meekly at her with his hands hidden behind his back._

 _"I wasn't expecting you to wake just yet, but here you are. Hawke, I... I have to tell you something, and please don't make light of it." Hawke's lips turned up slightly but she remained silent and attentive. "I've felt things, feelings for you I never even dreamed possible. You are an incredible woman and an incredible friend, but you are more than that to me. In Tevinter, I was alone, scared, angry, and I thought that I was destined to feel that way forever. But you, you've changed my world. I still get lost in my past, and I fear I always will on some level, but you're always there to steady me and to bring me back. I wanted to say," he paused, drawing a deep breath, "I just wanted to say thank you, I guess, that's all."_

 _"Fenris?"_

 _"Yes, Hawke?"_

 _"I love you too," Hawke chuckled and threw her arms around his neck. Fenris was taken aback breifly but wrapped his strong arms around her and burried his face in her hair._

 _"Thank you," he whispered against her neck and they stood there, holding each other, swaying slightly to the morning breeze wafting through the window._


	4. Chapter 4

He returned to Merrill's house a few hours later and entered to find her waiting for him with a book folded under her arms. She was smiling excitedly and bouncing on her toes. She grabbed his arm as soon as he closed the front door and dragged him toward her bedroom and the Eluvian. The mirror was glowing blue and the surface danced like water, but there was still no reflection of them in it. Instead, it seemed to show something beyond it, another place distorted as though seen through a frosted window.

"Did you fix it? What is this even for, Merrill?"

"Yes! I restored it to working condition and there is another Eluvian in Tarasyl'an Te'las."

"Tara- what? What does this have to do with Hawke, Merrill?"

"That's where the Inquisition is set up, and where both Varric and the Inquisitor are," she said, staring at the mirror with a smile playing on her lips.

"Okay, then what are we waiting for? I've got a few questions for Varric and his precious Inquisitor." Merrill held out her hand for him and he took it, noting the cold, clammy nature of it. She was flushed but flashed him a smile anyway. Fenris attempted to return it but his stomach felt like lead and his throat was tight.

With their hands clasped together and one final shared look, the two elves stepped through the Eluvian and left Kirkwall for the second and final time. The air around them buzzed with electricity and a blue fog swirled under their feet, making it almost impossible to see. Fenris closed his eyes and held on to her hand for dear life, allowing her to lead him. Merrill carried on with a sure calmness, never faltering in her steps, moving leisurely as though they were in a park instead of wherever _here_ was.

A few terrifying moments later, they emerged in a dark room covered in cobwebs and old tarps. Merrill massaged her hand and began poking around as Fenris stared out the door at a large statue of Andraste covered in ivy. He quietly muttered a short prayer to Andraste and the Maker to bring Hawke home safely and keep Bianca safe until he returned for her.

"Come one, Fenris, let's go find Varric. See what he's been up to and ask him some questions."

"Gladly," Fenris grabbed Merrill's hand again and pulled her out of the room and into the garden. They made their way down to the lower courtyard, keeping to the shadows and stepping lightly. Once there, they scanned for the tavern, undoubtably where Varric would set up shop. There was only one building with any signs of life, lights flickering in every window and a soft babble of voices filled the air around it. The two entered and scanned the surprisingly crowded bar, greeted by a comforting hum of conversation.

Fenris' eyes contracted as he spotted the stubby dwarf drinking alone in the corner. He looked miserable with heavy bags under his eyes. _Good_ , Fenris thought maliciously. He dropped Merrill's hand and left her standing nervously by the door as he stormed over to Varric's table. The bar became deathly silent and all eyes were him.

Varric, head foggy from the drinks and pounding from his guilt, was oblivious of the abrupt silence; he was lost in his thoughts, still lost in the Fade with his friend. Someone slammed their fist down on his table, spilling his half empty beer on the floor. Varric jumped in his chair and glared accusingly at the stranger, ready to scream at whatever idiot spilled his - he stopped half way out his chair, his blood freezing as he stared up at Fenris.

"H-hey Broody, how'd you get here so qu-" his sentence was cut off as Fenris struck him in the face and sent him flying out of his chair and sprawling on the floor. Fenris stood over him, eyes burning as Varric wiped blood off his lip. Merrill ran over and grabbed Fenris' arm and dragged him backwards, pleading for him to listen.

"I deserved that, I know. Fen, I'm so sorry but I couldn't do anything to stop it. And she volunteered!"

"Do not lie to me, dwarf," he hissed at the cowering figure before him. He allowed Merrill to pull him backward and he watched spitefully as Varric was helped up by a large qunari and shifty eyed elf.

Still holding the side of his face, which had already begun to swell, Varric sat down in his chair again and waved off the rest of the spectators. The qunari and elf left them, but not before shooting Fenris a suspicious look.

"Sit with me, elf boy, and we can discuss this like civilized people."

"No."

"I'll sit with you, Varric. I've some questions anyway, and I won't be hitting you," Merrill said as she pulled out a chair for her and Fenris. But he continued to stand with his arms crossed glaring still at Varric. "Varric, what happened? And where is the Inquisitor?"

"She's probably sleeping, or visiting with Solas. And we were thrown into the Fade after dealing with the Grey Wardens. We saw, ah shit, I don't even know exactly what we saw. It said it was the Divine and it showed us the exit. But, there was this huge fucking demon and there wasn't time. The rift was closing so -"

"So you sacrificed _my_ wife. _Y_ _our_ friend?"

"It's not like that, Broody! She sacrificed herself and I begged the Inquisitor to keep the rift open but we couldn't, I," he put his hand shakily over his eyes and steadied himself. His shoulders shook with long suppressed sob and Merrill squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, Fenris. I miss her so much and I keep reliving that moment, looking for something different I could've done."

"Varric, I know you did all you could. But, there is something we might be able to do," she motioned for Fenris to sit down, which he did begrudgingly. "I think Hawke might still be alive, stuck in the Fade and probably waiting for us to rescue her, honestly." Varric stared at her with huge, misty eyes and reached for her hand with urgency.

"She's what? How? I don't understand."

"Yes, Merrill thinks we can find her and bring her back, which is why we are here. Where is the Inquisitor?"

"I told you, Broody. She's probably in her room, we should wait until morning. Have a drink, friends." Fenris stood up, pushing his chair back and slamming his hand down on the table.

"We go now, dwarf. Get. Up."

Varric drained his mug and wiped the foam from his mouth. The three stood up, still the center of attention in the tavern, and left.

Varric showed them the way to the Inquisitor's room where Fenris pounded on the door.

"Come out, you coward. I demand to speak with the Inquisitor, now," There was shuffling inside and a low murmur of voices. A second later, a small blond haired elf with smudged eye liner opened the door, draped in a blanket.

"Yes?" Fenris pushed his way inside, greeted by another elf man, this one bald and surprised. "I, what is going on here? Who are these people, Varric?"

"I'm Hawke's husband, you witch. The woman you _left_ in the Fade to die, with no explanation or care." The Inquisitor's eyes widened and she backed up into Solas' arms and wrapped the blanket tighter around her naked body.

"Please, can we talk about this? I don't even know your name."

"I'm Merrill, and this is Hawke's husband, Fenris. And, well, I'm sure you know Varric. Aneth ara, da'len," Merrill took the Inquisitor's hand in greeting and nodded at Solas. He looked familiar to her somehow, but she couldn't place his face. "Fen, let's give them some privacy, we've clearly interrupted something. We'll all meet downstairs in a few minutes and sort all of this out." The three left the Inquisitor and Solas alone and waited for them in the throne room. Fenris leaned against the wall, fuming silently, as Merrill and Varric whispered quietly together; Varric lounging in the throne with Merrill perched on the arm.

A few moments later, the Inquisitor and Solas emerged from the shadows, dressed and cleaned up. Fenris pushed off from the wall and glared at her.

"Okay, here is what happened," she started, leading them to the war room. Outside, a rain started to fall and rapped at the window as the Inquisitor justified his wife's abandonment to them.


	5. Chapter 5

Hawke stood over the nightmare, its blood dripping down her face and soaking her hair. She raked her hands through her wet hair irritably and looked around.

"Green and rocky, boy did I miss the Fade," she walked around the nightmare, searching for anything it might've dropped or eaten. Nothing. She sheathed her sword after wiping most of the blood off her face with her sleeve, and sat down with her legs spread out in front. "Would've been so much easier if this stupid thing had actually killed me," she winced, it had got her side pretty good and it wouldn't stop bleeding. She tore off a strip of her shirt and tied it around her chest, putting as much pressure on it her wound with her hands as she could. She leaned her back against a rock and closed her eyes. She was dragged down into a deep sleep. Left alone in the Fade and bleeding, she dreamed of a better time.

Fenris sat on the edge of the war table and stared accusingly at the Inquisitor. She was retelling of how they left Hawke to die in the Fade - she said she needed the Wardens and their help in order to defeat Corypheus.

"Corypheus is dead, you fool. _We_ killed him together, years ago," Fenris snarled as the Inquisitor stared back levelly.

"Broody," Varric muttered as he grabbed his arm, "it's true, I saw him myself. I don't know how either, but he's back."

"Yes, he claims to be a magister and wants to become a god himself, which is why we have to stop him."

"I don't care, Inquisitor, I want to find my wife. The woman you killed. How do we get back to the Fade?"

"I believe I can help in that aspect," Solas said, rising from her seat and placing his hands behind his back, "we must go back to Adamant Fortress and enter the Fade physically to search for your, uh, Hawke."

"Fine, we go now. You had better pray she still lives, elf," Fenris shoved away from the table and stormed out of the war room. He kneeled in the mud beneath the Andraste statue in the garden and squeezed his eyes shut.

"I don't know if you or the Maker is real, but please, please, let Hawke be alive. I need her to come home, Bianca needs her mother. I could use something, any sign to let me know you're listening to me," the rain poured around him, soaking him through, and plastering his hair to his forehead. His markings shown in the darkness.

They arrived at Adamant Fortress a few weeks later, travel worn and weary, with Fenris leading the party. He hadn't slept well during the trip, his dreams haunted by Hawke's voice, of her whispering his name over and over until she was lost in the silence. Behind him, Merrill and Varric rode, sharing a horse, with their heads bent together as they whispered. The air was tense around the fortress, and a fog skirted around their ankles.

"We will enter the Fade shortly, but first we must prepare and set up camp," Solas announced authoritatively as they climbed the steps.

Adamant Fortress. The last place Hawke had been before - Fenris' heart pounded in his chest and he couldn't get enough air with each breath, he was suffocating. Their footfalls echoed hollowly around him, every whisper screamed in his head, ringing in his ears. His armor weighed him down, slowing him to a crawl, forcing him to continue haltingly, fighting each movement. Each step was a mountain. He held Varric's letter in his hand, balling it up and smoothing it out compulsively, smudging the words with his sweat. It slipped out of his hands and crashed to the floor. He stared at it. Varric and the others walked (ran?) past him without a second glance and he was left alone. The night dimmed, closing him off from the world, and he still stared at the letter. Varric's letter. Hawke's letter.

His eyes locked on to that letter, grounding himself to it. He bent down, slowly, his arm reaching out for miles, to grab the crumpled letter and smoothed it out again against his chest. He shut his eyes against the world and hugged his legs to his chest, rocking slowly on his heels. He held the letter to his face and read it again, lingering over Hawke's name each time, tracing her name with his eyes. He breathed in the cold night air; it hurt his lungs but it steadied his heart a little. He took deep breaths and hid his head in his knees, twisting his hair through his fingers like Hawke always did.

He appeared in their makeshift camp half an hour later, head stuffy but otherwise clear, holding the letter in his hand and offering the group a shy smile. Merrill sat by the fire and invited him to sit next to her, which he did gratefully. She patted his hand comfortingly but asked him no questions, just offered her silence.

They ate watery soup around the fire and listened to Varric retell the Tale of the Champion, Merrill and Fenris each offering their own personal stories in turn. The night grew later and soon the horizon was tinged with the pink of morning.

"We should leave soon, the Inquisitor will open a rift and we will search for Hawke. Fenris, I need you to understand that we might not find her alive, but we will hope for the best," _was Solas always so condescending?_ Fenris hated the way he stared after the Inquisitor, too, like he was hungry for her.

"She's alive," Merrill stated simply, sipping her tea cross legged and flipping lazily through her book. Solas sneered at her but said nothing, he had learned better on their trip to the fortress.

An hour later, the sun peeking over the skyline, the company traveled up to the battlements to the last place Hawke had seen daylight outside of the Fade. The Inquisitor glanced around and nodded at Fenris before she held up her hand to the sky. It glowed bright green and a rift opened ahead of them. Fenris shuddered, remembering the last time he'd visited the Fade, how he had betrayed Hawke for power promised to him by a demon, of all things. He swallowed and his throat clicked as he stepped through the rift. The green mist enveloped him, cutting him off from the outside world.

Hawke was in here. Somewhere.


	6. Chapter 6

Fenris began poking around the clearing, his hand hovering over the hilt of his sword, ready for anything, as the rest of the group filed in through the rift. The Inquisitor entered last and the rift shut behind her. His heart doubled in pace, they were in the Fade again, but this time there was no Hawke. No yet, he reminded himself. Varric cradled Bianca, his finger playing with her trigger, and the mages held their staffs at the ready.

"Varric, do you remember the way you walked to the exit?" Solas asked. He had an air of complete comfort about him that angered Fenris in a way he couldn't quite understand.

"Uh, not really Chuckles. We pretty much just walked, ran, straight-ish, I think. We had the Divine show us to the exit," Varric rubbed his neck and looked around, his eyebrows furrowing.

"No matter, Hawke can't be that far. We'll just search around and call out her name. Maybe she'll hear her husband and come running," Solas walked forward without a backwards glance.

"She's this way," Merrill said, walking in the complete opposite direction as Solas. He turned around, his face darkened in anger which quickly disappeared, and glared at the back of Merrill's head.

"How could you possibly know this?"

"I know. She's this way." Fenris smirked at Solas, whose face was still dark, and followed Merrill forward. She walked with a confident disinterest, carefully stepping over and dodging the rocks.

Fenris followed her, his heart still in his throat whether from excitement or fear, he had no idea. The green mist swirled around his feet and obscured his vision. He could just barely make out Merrill in front of him and Varric at his side. Even the sounds of the footsteps were muffled. Varric said something but it was muted. Fenris turned, expecting to see the dwarf holding his crossbow and trying to joke around, but he saw nothing. Fenris whirled around, searching for Merrill in front of him but. Nothing. The green mist danced around him as he stood, searching for his friends. Searching for anyone. Anything.

He unsheathed his sword and held it in front of his body tensely. Something whispered, buzzed around his head and snaked through his ears.

"Always so feisty, that one."

"Who's there? Merrill? Varric?" his voice rose in terror as he whipped around, searching for whoever had just spoken.

He felt breath on the back of his neck, sending a shiver up his spine despite the heat. It smelled of pavali.

Fenris dropped his sword and it clanged on the ground, its echo cut off abruptly. The silence was deafening, it rang in his ears.

"Once upon a time, you had affection for me. I remember is fondly," the voice slithered around his head, carrying with it the stench of pavali.

"No," he breathed. "You're dead. We killed you, Danarius." The voice chuckled, causing Fenris to break out in goosebumps.

"No, my dear. I'm here with you, and very much alive. And this time, there is nowhere to run. No Hawke to protect you. None of your friends are even here. They wouldn't even notice you were gone." Fenris backed away, his eyes wide with horror. His sword lay a few feet away, forgotten, swallowed up by the mist. "My little wolf, I've missed you."


	7. Chapter 7

Fenris looked on, frozen in place, as Danarius materialized from the mist. His eyes were no longer that cold grey that still haunted his sleep, but matched the oppressive green fog of the Fade. He stepped closer to his former slave at a leisurely pace, his vacant eyes never leaving Fenris' face. Fenris backed up, his steps mirroring Danarius' forward march.

He hit a wall and flattened his back against it, cringing as Danarius brushed his hair away from his terrified eyes. His cold fingers burned his skin and his eyes drilled in to his former slave.

Fenris woke up on a familiar wooden cot, his back aching and his body covered in sweat. It was hot and the sun was barely peaking over the horizon. It would be scorching once the day broke for real. He swept his hair back and stood up. He made his pathetic bed, which consisted of a dirty blanket made of rough hide and put on his shirt which hung on a hook next to the door. He made his way to the mansion, his eyes cast downward the whole time as to not invite aggression from the magisters visiting his master. They glowered at him but left him well enough alone. They had heard of his abilities and knew how much Danarius valued him. He arrived at the door to Danarius' chambers quickly, his head bowed and waited until he was invited inside. Danarius motioned him forward impatiently and returned to his reading. Fenris walked forward and bid him a good morning quietly and poured him a glass of pavali for him. He hated the smell and wrinkled his nose to it but said nothing. Danarius looked up, a mixture of pride and lust in his eyes, and took the glass from Fenris.

"Thank you, dear," he drank, his eyes still focusing on his face. He traced the markings with his finger tips, which chilled his blood. "So lovely, you are. How did you sleep last night, my pet?"

"Fine, thank you."

"Always so formal, this one!" Danarius threw his head back and laughed in exasperation. "Don't you love me? Your master?"

"Yes," Fenris responded and returned a feeble smile. Danarius' eyes looked different, somehow. Had they always been green?

"Of course you do. Stay with me while I finish my studies and we will entertain the guests after," Fenris nodded, forgetting what he had been thinking about. He stood in the corner silently, refilling his pavali when necessary.

About an hour later, Danarius led Fenris down to the dinning hall, where several other mages awaited them impatiently. A cheer went up when they entered and echoed around the hall. Fenris filled their glasses and sat in the kitchen until he was needed again. He stared blankly at the wall, his head vacant and his eyes distant until he heard the door to the kitchen squeak open. He looked up to see Hadriana, her eyes the same chilling green. She walked over to him, a plate of mouth watering food in her hands and an uncaring smile on her face.

"Are you hungry, elf?" He said nothing and kept his head lowered. Better to keep silent, he knew how this would end. She slapped him across his face, her fingernails grazing his cheek. Small pinpricks of blood beaded up and streaked down his cheek, staining their precious markings red. He said nothing, let out no sound, and kept his head down. His tattoos glowed slightly, illuminating Hadriana's grinning face, casting shadows which made her look less human and more like the demon she was. Her green eyes never left his face.

"Good job, elf. You dropped all your dinner on the floor," she kicked it at him, "you should really pick it up. Don't want your master to get upset with you, do you? Poor little elf, you're probably starving though. Too bad." She looked down her nose at his, still kicking food at his feet. He clenched his fists but remained silent. Don't say a word. "Listen, elf," she snarled as she grabbed his hair in her fists and pushed his head down. "You'll pick this up, now. Or I'll get Danarius and you know how he hates messes."

"Yes, ma'am," he said as he bent and began picking up the food and placing it back on the plate.

"Whoops," she giggled as she enchanted the plate. It spun, throwing the food off and scattering it about the room, and then shattered against the wall. "You'd better get to it. The food won't pick itself up, you know. Good night, elf." She turned and walked out the door. He heard her laugh faintly as she walked back to the dinner.

He shook with indignation, his stomach growling, and picked up the food she had spilled. It really did smell good.

After everything was cleaned up, he returned to the dinner to pour more pavali and be paraded around like a show animal. Danarius loved how Fenris intimidated his guests, he absolutely cackled with joy when Fenris' lyrium markings shown in their eyes.

All green.

Fenris obeyed his master without any dissension, moving mechanically while he remembered something just out of reach. While he poured drink after drink, he was reminded of a night of alcohol flavored kisses. Someone (a woman?) tracing his markings with their fingertips; something that normally made his blood run cold, had set him ablaze. He remembered ocean blue eyes, so deep he could drown. He remembered words, reading. Writing.

Fantasy, he scolded himself.

But it didn't seem fake. Seemed real. More real than himself, than this mansion. Than all of these staring, empty green eyes which flowed like smoke.

"Fenris, please," someone whispered near his ear, sending his heart racing. Someone he knew but had never met. "Please, Fen. You're free," they breathed, their voice trailing off.

"Wait!" he cried in his mind. Something about that voice, the way they said his name.

"You're free. You're out, away from them. Please, Fen, fight this. Stay strong for me, for Bianca." He stared at his hand which held a bottle of pavali with new eyes. It wavered like an uncertain mirage, the liquid drifted out and began smoking as soon as it hit the air. The door, guarded by Hadriana, whose hair bobbed about her as though under water, began to leak mist.

He turned around, spilling the wine, and saw Danarius begin to shift and writhe, his body melting away to reveal several legs and a long twitching tail. His face, though, stayed the same face that had tormented and kept him prisoner his whole life. The face smiled, ripping his cheek open and showing row upon row of vicious teeth. They shone in the firelight, dripping wet, and drops of saliva fell to the floor around Fenris.

Fenris backed away, pushing through the stumbling magisters whose eyes were still empty but whose faces had began to twist into grimaces of both terror and joy. The room around him began to flicker, quickly filling up with green smoke. He ran, bursting through the double doors, to his cot and his sword. The castle faded away as he raced onward, dodging grasping claws. The ground shook ferociously as Danarius chased him, the smile never leaving his face.

Fenris tore open his door and hurried inside, shutting it tightly behind him. His room, usually no larger than a broom closet, stretched on seemingly forever, its walls fading away inside darkness. His sword, a gift from Danarius himself, was propped up against the wall opposite his bed, sheathed and waiting.

The sword felt good in his hand, heavy but well balanced and cold. It almost hummed in anticipation for what awaited them. It had been a gift from his master (Danarius, he corrected himself) in an attempt to gain his affection. How fitting that this would be the sword to end him and his hold over Fenris' whole world.

The ground beneath him shook as Danarius made his way down the hall.

"Little wolf, my little Leto. Where are you? Your master has a chore for you, come out and play." The air around him swam with the smell of pavali and Danarius' breath. With each step of the huge beast, Fenris' old room faded, until finally, the walls disappeared completely and he stood face to face with Danarius. His old master's smile widened, tearing his cheeks open even more.

"Hello, my pet. I have missed you, please spend time with me," he cooed. Fenris gulped and tightened his grip on his sword, finding comfort in its cool steel.

"I am not your pet, Danarius."

"Oh my," he said, throwing his head back to laugh, "how wrong you are. You are mine, my slave, my pet, and you always will be."

"No," uh muttered. He clenched his sword so hard, his knuckles shining white and his markings throbbing.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Fenris. Speak up, please."

"I said no, you bastard," he screamed, launching himself forward. His markings seared in his flesh, hurting just like the day he got them. He ducked under Danarius' swings, dodging his tail, all the while attempting to find an opening. Danarius danced away, skirting his blows, and forever protecting his heart.

As he attacked his former master, he relived a life he never knew. A woman that smelled like spring and had lips like candy. A woman who fit his body perfectly, whose eyes lit up when she laughed. He remembered someone else, too. A girl? Their child. With each swing, the memories grew brighter. It was like he was breaking through to them, and destroying Danarius would bring them all back.

He fought harder now, determined to get to this woman and child, people he didn't know but knew he loved (a word he never thought he'd understand). With each blow, Danarius' smile wavered and shrunk. And with each strike against Danarius, Fenris grew stronger, his resolve strengthening. He focused entirely on a smile he remembered, he could almost remember a name.

His markings were refracted in the green mist and reflected in the empty eyes of Danarius. Danarius' smirk was completely gone, replaced instead by an angry grimace with snarling teeth.

"You cannot hope to defeat me, Fenris," he said through clenched teeth, sweat rolling down his face. Fenris was also sweating but still hand't let up, his constant blows were taking a toll on the monster (he no longer thought of him as Danarius).

"He's wrong," whispered that voice again, somewhere close behind him. He felt hands on his and felt the sword buzz and strengthen. It was that woman who smelled of honeysuckles.

"You're wrong, Danarius," Fenris said, grinning for the first time in what felt like forever. His wounds no longer pained him. He felt renewed. The voice behind him laughed quietly as he rained his sword down on Danarius. The beast buckled, sinking lower and lower, Fenris hacking off pieces of his legs and tail as he tried to protect himself.

Blood sprayed, soaking Fenris' hair and face, but the voice behind still called encouragement to him.

Hawke

Her name was Hawke.

They met in Kirkwall.

Fenris was a free elf then, running away from this.

They fell in love.

They had a child. A beautiful baby girl

Bianca.

Varric took Hawke for the Inquisition and she was left.

Left in the Fade.

Fenris was here to save her.

"This isn't real," he muttered, smirking now.

"What did you say, dog?"

"I said, it's not real. You're not real. This is the Fade and my wife is in here somewhere. You won't stop me," he said as he brandished his sword in the face of his former master who lay on the ground, bleeding and cursing.

"You'll never escape, dog. I own you, even in death, you're mine."

"No, Danarius. I am my own," he ran his sword that had been a gift through his exposed chest. Right through his heart.

A white light exploded forth, destroying what was left of the castle. He heard the voice laugh again, floating away and it called his name once more.

Fenris stood over his former master, his blood pooling beneath him. He was free again, from him and this nightmare. Hawke's voice had left him but he was not alone, and she was in here somewhere.

She was close.

The body of his former master faded away and he woke up on the floor of the Fade with Merrill and Varric standing over him anxiously.

"Welcome back, Broody," Varric said, offering his hand to help him up.

"We're close," Merrill smiled and led them forward, deeper in the Fade.


	8. Chapter 8

Varric, Merrill, and Fenris walked on in silence, each caught up in their individual nightmares. Solas and the Inquisitor led the way, their heads bent together - Solas seemed the only one who was totally unaffected by the Fade and its tricks, even Merrill seemed out of her element. Her eyes were puffy, like she'd been crying, but she waved off Fenris' concerns with a weak smile.

Merrill walked onward on sure feet and gentle steps, but her mind was still agonizing over the nightmare inflicted on her. She stroked the scarf Mahariel had given her before leaving with the Grey Wardens. It was soft, even after all these years, and always calmed her down whenever the weight of her clan's abandonment was too much. Mahariel was always with her, and the Fade had brought her back.

Merrill was surrounded by her old clan, deep within the Brecillian Forest at dusk. The birds flew lazily through the trees, calling out to each other and rustling the branches around them. The Keeper had been there too, holding out her arms and welcoming Merrill back in the clan after all these years.

"You were right, da'len. You have restored elvhen history and opened for us a new world of possibilities."

"Thank you, Keeper," Merrill swelled as she bowed her head.

"With your work, we may be able to restore the greatness that once was the dalish."

"Daisy?" She was jolted out of her memory by Varric, holding her elbow worriedly.

"Sorry, Varric. Just thinking about something," she wiped her eyes and scanned ahead. The fog had begun to clear and was instead replaced by more jagged rocks and muffled footsteps. Solas and the Inquisitor had stopped up ahead and motioned them forward, their faces grim.

Fenris pushed past them, his breathing rapid and -

The Keeper clasped Merrill's hands and kissed her forehead as the clan watched on. The Eluvian, now polished and shimmering, stood behind them. Mahariel came forward and held Merrill's hand, her green eyes shining.

"I'm so proud of you, vhenan. And I've missed you," Mahariel leaned in close and held her face in her small, strong hands. Her eyes were cloudy but beautiful, Merrill's hopeful face reflected in them. She smelled of lilacs. Merrill closed her eyes and breathed deep, she loved - what was that? Smoke? She snapped her eyes open but Mahariel stood there with that same fixed, kind smile on her face.

Merrill felt a small knot in her stomach but ignored it. She was safe.

"Merrill?" someone said from behind her. No one else moved or even acknowledged the new voice, they all stood still as statues and transfixed on Mahariel and Merrill, who were still locked together.

"Who said that?"

"Said what, vhenan?" Mahariel snapped, her eyes hardening. She softened with a smile after noticing Merrill's shock, "No one spoke, my dear. You are tired from working on the Eluvian for so long."

"I, I suppose you're right," she conceded, taking Mahariel's hand in hers and following her back to their tent. Their footsteps hushed by the leaves which carpeted the floor and the fine mist which clung around their ankles.

"Daisy, please come back," another voice with gruff concern pleaded.

"Is someone there?"

"No, vhenan, we've been over this. There's no one here, just us," Mahariel grabbed her hands hard, and stared coldly in Merrill's eyes. She was hurting her, her nails dug into her palms and left crescent shaped marks. Mahariel's eyes stormed over, her green eyes burning. She smiled, clearing her eyes and letting go of her hands, "I'm sorry, lethallan. Are you alright?" She brushed her hair out of her eyes and kissed her cheek. It left a cold spot and made Merrill's skin explode with goosebumps.

"You're right, I'm sorry," she sat on the bed, taking off her scarf to run it through her fingers. The usual smooth texture was now coarse and frayed, the edge of it smoked upward. Merrill threw the scarf on the floor as though it bit her and rubbed her hands on her thighs.

"Merrill, please come back. You're stronger than she is and we need you," Whose voice was that? It sounded familiar but she couldn't place it. It sounded close. It sounded scared. Sounded alone.

Mahariel stood in the corner, tidying up the cramped tent, and humming quietly. She hummed a tune Merrill had never heard, something dark and sharp. It made Merrill's hair stand on end. The hide tent walls closed in above her head, suffocating her. Something was wrong here.

Merrill jumped up from the bed abruptly and ran for the door. She had to get out. Something was wrong. That wasn't her Warden, wasn't her clan. And someone needed her. Someone she loved and someone who loved her back.

The tent door flapped behind her as she tore through the forest and past the grabbing hands of her clan. Mahariel stood out front of the tent with her arms crossed and a sour smile on her lips. Her hair snaked around her once beautiful face, which was now cracked with age and covered in blood flowing from her eyes. She turned to the clan, who awaited for her orders patiently, and commandeered them to go forth and find the witch.

Merrill ran, bent over to avoid the spells her once great Keeper now shot at her. Her former clan members were now grey with deadly claws, and their voices sounded more animal than human. The forest she knew as home had also changed; the sky was blocked out entirely by the hanging dangers of the trees and the bushes snatched at her ankles as she ran, leaving deep bleeding cuts.

She had left her staff in the tent and was left only with a hand carved knife someone (Varric) had given her one day, years ago. It felt good in her small hands and steadied her shaking sightly.

There was no moon tonight, so the only light was the light from the camp she had fled. Shadows dashed in front of it and she knew there was nowhere left to run.

She turned to face her clan.

They emerged from the forest in hoards, their snarls blocking out any other noise. Merrill stood tall, her hair plastered to her forehead with sweat, and waited for Mahariel, her vhenan, her Warden, her rock.

She emerged seconds later, surrounded by an oppressive green light. She sneered at Merrill.

"Oh, Merrill, you traitorous witch. Why couldn't you just listen to me, for once? Like you used to. Pathetic puppy dog, too cowardly to think for yourself," she purred. Her dark hair cascaded down her shoulders and she towered over her, covering her in her shadow.

"No, Mahariel, I'm not weak. I am stronger, much stronger than you." Mahariel threw her head back and laughed.

"No, Merrill. You're not. You needed me, you needed the Keeper, and you need Hawke now. You have no hope," she lunged forward, her claws tearing at the air before Merrill's face. Merrill stumbled back, almost losing her balance on the slick mud beneath her. The rest of the clan looked on, their hunger evident in their dead eyes.

"Merrill!" The voice sounded scared, and she sounded close. Merrill slipped and fell, nearly drowning in the mud which had risen to her shin. Mahariel took this opportunity to pounce on the helpless elf, slashing at her face. Blood flooded down Merrill's face, covering her vallaslin. She struggled beneath her friend, this demon, but she was too heavy and Merrill was too tired. She was tired from the Eluvian, tired from the responsibility, tired from the abandonment.

It would be so much simpler to let her kill her here, be done with it all...

She felt a warm, comforting hand on her shoulder, and it numbed the pain from Mahariel's blows. It was calloused but soft, and there was a faint scent of a garden mixed in with the stench of iron and blood.

"Merrill, please. You're family." Hawke.

"Yeah, Daisy, we love you." Varric?

"Yes, Kitten, we do. A lot." Isabela.

"What are you blabbering about, witch?" Mahariel paused in her assault, heaving her up by the throat. Merrill struggled to breathe but still held on to her triumphant smile. Blood stained her teeth. "Speak!" She bellowed, her voice no longer the voice of her dear Warden, but instead burning with anger and indignation.

"You're not going to win," she wheezed, it hurt to speak. She was flung away, her head connecting with the tree under which she and Mahariel (the real Mahariel) had shared their first kiss.

The demon jumped on her again and began flailing, going for the kill.

A howl tore through the dark night, sending birds and the rest of her clan fleeing. She stiffened on top of Merrill's bloody body and fell over, shaking the ground like an earthquake.

Moments passed, and the night rang in the silence. Merrill's hand was clasped tightly around her knife which was drenched in the blood of her Warden. Merrill, impossibly small compared to the demon who wore Mahariel's face, stood and began walking away. The trees disappeared, replaced by the quiet mist of the Fade.

"Ir abelas, ma vhenan," she whispered, the blood and all evidence of her encounter dissolving into nothing.

Varric was on ahead, leaning over Fenris. She continued on.

Fenris reached Solas and the Inquisitor, out of breath and scared. They stood near the corpse of the Nightmare, their feet stained with its blood. And to the left, they saw -


	9. Chapter 9

Hawke.

She dozed with her back against the rock closest to the slain Nightmare with her hands folded in her lap, and her sword thrown down beside her. She knew she'd die in the Fade and had made her peace with it, but dying was taking so long and she was so tired.

Blood had stained her once beautiful hair dark red and she was a mosaic of cuts and gouges. Each breath racked through her now fragile body, but her friends were safe.

She smiled in her exhausted sleep at the thought of Varric telling The Tale of the Champion: Fade to Black (or some other corny title). He'd gather all his friends, and anyone else drunk enough, to listen and tell the wild story about how Hawke had saved the day once again (and probably battled another dragon too).

Fenris.

Fenris. The thought of his gentle face tore at her heart. He'd be crushed. She could barely even summon the courage to think about him herself, but he would have Bianca, their beautiful, starry eyed, baby girl. And he was strong, and he was brave, and he would never be alone again. She hoped he'd remember - she was cut off by a fit of coughing which left her mouth filled with the taste of blood and her chest sore. The cut in her side opened and began bleeding again.

She struggled awake, her eyelids a thousand pounds. She was still alone, surrounded by the hollowed silence she had become accustomed to. She repositioned herself against the rock, looking forward to sleeping again; where she could dream of her husband before she bled out.

Just as she was closing her weary eyes, she heard (Hawke) something. A voice? Or, or footsteps? Could it be possible? She shook her head in an attempt to clear her mind. Nothing and no one is here, except me of course. She adjusted again, avoiding the blood drying on the ground.

Flashes of her life danced before her closed eyes. Fenris, Bianca, Varric, Merrill. Flowers in her foyer. The smell of Bianca's hair. Merrill's carefree laugh. Varric's comforting hand on her shoulder. It all whirled around her, making her heart ache for the life she would be leaving behind.

(Hawke)

Again, and this time closer, more urgent. She strained against her unconsciousness, drowning in the ocean of sleep. Something about that voice sounded (what) scared, nervous, close. It sounded close, and it sounded familiar. With it brought painful memories of tender good morning touches and late night mumbled 'I love you's.

Fenris stood beside Solas and the Inquisitor and stared down at his wife. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. She lay there, covered in cuts inches deep, and drenched in what looked like gallons of drying blood. The air smothered him, his breath hitched in his throat.

It was Hawke.

She was alive, barely. Her chest rose and fell unevenly with seconds, almost minutes apart. Her face was stained but she was still beautiful. She looked as though she'd wake up any second now and laugh her bubbly, infectious laugh which always made him smile.

He reached down and wiped a streak of blood off her face and smoothed down her hair. Her cheek was cool, clammy.

"She doesn't have much time, Fenris," Solas said sympathetically, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. He shrugged his hand off his shoulder, not wanting his comfort or his hollow words.

Fenris tentatively reached out and touched her shoulder. It was cold and slick with blood. She shuddered under his touch, but remained asleep.

Hawke felt (Fenris) someone touch her shoulder, softly. It was comforting, afraid, warm, and she was so cold. The waves of unconsciousness washed over her again, carrying her further out and away from whoever was trying to wake her.

Fenris' eyes stung with tears but he bit his lip and ignored the lump in his throat.

"Fenris..."

"She's going to be alright," he jeered at the Inquisitor. He knew she was trying to help but he wasn't going to listen to someone's comforting words as if she was already dead. She was going to be fine.

He scooped her up, cradling her broken body like a sleeping child, and began walking back toward Varric and Merrill. Merrill gasped, grabbing her scarf. Varric covered his mouth.

Fenris blinked away tears and placed his wife on the ground at their feet.

"Can you do anything, Merrill?" He tore a piece of fabric off of his shirt and began wiping some of the dried blood off of her face. She stirred but did not wake. She was so cold.

Hawke sank deeper into the darkness of her slumber, shivering in the deep. She felt weightless and heavy at the same time, the blackness slithering inside her and emptying her out and filling her up. She couldn't breathe, couldn't see. She needed to escape this.

She was so scared.

She floated around the void, organizing her thoughts, and straining her eyes for the slightest (anything) movement.

She was lost in her memories of the time she'd spent with her friends and her husband and child when she realized she'd been staring at something. There was something else in this nothing with her. A small dot of light (blue light) was out in front of her. It seemed like miles away but it was something.

(Hawke)

She could hear something (someone) calling out to her. She could feel her body around her for the first time since she could remember. It felt weak and it hurt, but she was still alive. For the time being, at least.

She began swimming toward the light, gritting her teeth against the pain in her shoulders and the taste of blood in her mouth. It wasn't getting closer. She screamed out in pain and exasperation, tears falling and washing away the blood that still covered her face.

She squeezed her eyes shut and gasped her air. She couldn't die here, not anymore. She had given up but the hope that the light and that familiar voice (Fenris) brought wouldn't let her die. She had a daughter. She had a husband. She had her friends. Hot tears rolled down her face.

"Hawke, please come back to me." Those words echoed around her, filling her head to bursting. She knew that voice. Knew it from the loving inflection they put on her name, the way he trailed off at the end like he was afraid of being too loud. She knew it from the subtle Tevinter accent that always showed up when he wasn't paying attention.

Fenris held her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. She had to make it through, he'd found her. Found her in this Fade, this hell. He began humming the lullaby they sang to Bianca. It was soft and flowed through his lips without a thought. They sang it together every night since Hawke was pregnant, it was the same song Hawke's mother had sung to her when she was a child.

He gathered his wife in his arms, ignoring the blood staining his clothes, and sung softly into her hair. Her breathing still irregular, still wheezing in her throat.

But even drenched in blood, she still smelled of spring. She still shown out in the darkness of the Fade, his markings shining on her pale face. The face of his wife, his hero, and his best friend.

The others stood off to the side with bated breath and listened to his song.

Hawke could hear their lullaby falling around her like the first snow. It beckoned her forward, gave her muscles the energy to move in the emptiness. She pushed toward to blue glow.

Fenris stopped humming. Hawke's face had changed, her features scrunching up in a determined pout. She breathing had also increased, he could feel her heart thumping against his side.

"Don't stop, lover boy! She hears you," Varric and the others drew closer, their faces eager. Merrill stifled her cries in her scarf but said nothing.

She stopped just short of the blue light, letting it warm her broken body in its brilliance. She stopped to gather her strength, to reflect on everything that happened, how everything always seemed to happen in the Fade. She hated it here, and she just wanted to go home.

Hawke's eyes fluttered open, her eyelashes slick with blood, and stared ahead. Her eyes were unfocused, and pale. A sickly blue scanning for the person who was singing that beautiful song. Fenris held his breath, her eyes looked past him but they were open. She stirred in his arms, pulling his shirt feebly, and burying her face in his chest.

Hawke still couldn't see, not clearly at least. Her eyes could detect the blue light, it was right in front of her. She grabbed on to the closest thing to her, a familiar fabric which whispered in her hand. She pressed her face to it, breathing in a scent which flooded her mind with memories.

She closed her useless eyes and just listened. She could hear the excited beating of someone's heart, the murmur of voices right above her head. Their voices hushed with disbelief.

Fenris gasped, his heart ramming against his chest. He held her more tightly than ever, listening to her breathing growing stronger. He turned his head and beamed at his companions, tears overflowing from his tired eyes. Merrill threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around the two while Varric chuckled and wiped away his tears.

"Attagirl, Hawke. I knew nothing could keep you down."

"I heard that, Varric," Hawke whispered haltingly, still hiding her face in her husband's shirt.

"Shit, Hawke," he said, fresh tears cascading down his face.

Hawke turned on her back and fixed her eyes on her husband. His face was blurry and the light in here was too harsh, but she looked up anyways, a smile breaking out on her face.

"Hey, you," she said, reaching up slowly and touching his face. Fenris softly grabbed her hand, and brought it to his trembling lips.

"Hawke, I-" he couldn't continue his thought, he was interrupted by a fresh wave of tears. They rolled down from his face and fell on to Hawke's. He clenched his teeth together in an attempt to calm himself but he couldn't, he couldn't stop crying, and she continued to smile up at him.

"I love you, too, Fenris," she smiled broader, her own tears sliding down her face. He pulled her closer and rocked her back and forth.

They hummed their lullaby together as the others looked on.


End file.
